


Well and Truly

by YourPalYourBuddy



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Photography, Snapshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 04:57:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18542725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourPalYourBuddy/pseuds/YourPalYourBuddy
Summary: Brandon starts talking before their professor finishes opening the floor for comments. “Like, is this a joke? It’s focused on that blond guy again. He’s, like, the only point of stillness in the room, it feels like the camera rests on him like it’s comfortable looking at him. It’s sort of in love with him, isn’t it?”Jack — Jack can’t think about that right now. Or, okay, yes, he likes looking at Bitty. Bitty’s easy to look at. And he’s not always as still as he is in the picture, but that’s because here he’s smiling at his phone while he tweets something about the scores to his followers, and okay, everyone else is in an uproar and yes Bitty’s in focus if not in center like the camera’s directing eyes to him, and—He knew it already, but he’s fucked. Well and truly.___________________AKA "the photography class knew first." Zimbits, Jack's POV :)





	Well and Truly

________________________

 

His photography teacher tells them their first day of class to be aware of their light. Compositions, she says, deal heavily with light and dark almost always, so keeping one eye on that balance is important. You don’t want to overshadow your subject. Light can bring clarity and emotion to your piece.

“Find your light,” she says again at the end of class. Jack writes it down and underlined it twice. 

____________

 

Bitty goes with him when he asks. “I don’t know much about fancy cameras,” Bitty says in the store. He carefully turns a camera over in his hands, concentrating as intently as he does on the ice. “How much do you need it to do?”

“Not sure,” he says. “Enough?” 

Bitty smiles at the floor. “We could get you all set with a disposable one then.”

“Funny,” he says, bumping against Bitty’s elbow, and there’s a brief jolt of something when Bitty looks up at him. 

____________

 

He spends the weekend figuring out the settings. They’re on a roadie, so he points it at various teammates from his seat to figure out the strength of the lens, how well it focuses at far distances, if it captures movement well. In the back of the bus, Ransom and Holster toss food at each other and he snaps a picture right before Holster catches an M&M in his mouth. 

“Yo, did you get that?”

He nods. 

“Send that to me? New profile pic?”

Ransom laughs at him, shaking his head. Jack watches as they clean up a little and snuggle against each other. They’re asleep in seconds. 

Across the aisle, Bitty mutters, “Goofballs.” He’s doing homework with his tongue stuck a little bit out of his mouth. Jack’s taking a picture before he realizes. 

His hair looks like a halo in the sunlight streaming through the window. Jack studies it a moment, suddenly unsteady, and then puts his camera away for the weekend.

____________

 

They have a week before full class critique. Jack goes to the Quad and sits against a tree, watching his team make a mess of the snow. Snow forts, snowmen, snow hockey players, a massive sculpture of the jockstrap from the locker room; the entire yard fills up with their creations in a matter of hours. He takes photos of all of it. Bitty spends several minutes constructing a pie, working the lattice over the top as if it were edible, and when Jack asks to take a picture of it, he’s thinking of the red in Bitty’s cheeks and the way there’s some snow stuck in his hair. 

“Oh! Well, sure, Jack,” Bitty says. He holds up the snow like he’s on the cover of a cookbook. Jack snaps the picture. 

He turns the camera around, inviting Bitty to take a peek. Bitty sits right next to him and he has to stop himself from putting his arm around his shoulders. “What do you think?”

“Anything I say is gonna be biased,” Bitty says. “I think you have an excellent subject in this picture, he really makes the photo come together.”

Jack says, “Maybe I should stop before you get too big an ego,” and Bitty crinkles up his nose the way he does when he thinks Jack’s being funny but doesn’t want to reward him with a laugh on principle. 

That  _ something _ from before is back, curling through his stomach. “Bitty—”

Shitty throws snowballs at them then, effectively cutting him off. He forgets what he was going to say as Bitty presses two snowballs into his hands, chirping Shitty gleefully, but he doesn’t forget the feeling of seeing his nose like that.

____________

 

“Does anyone wanna say it, or shall I?”

There’s one very loud guy in his class who reminds Jack of Shitty if Shitty were a shittier person. Outspoken, brash, unable to see when he’s actively hurting someone’s feelings. He’s had something “important” (rude and obnoxious) to say about everyone’s work so far.

Jack, sitting on a stool at the front of the class, tenses.

They’re looking at a picture of a kegster from the other night that Ransom and Holster threw after a hard fought win. In it, Bitty and Lardo lean against the kitchen counter, red Solo cups stacked haphazardly in the sink and cupboards, and their hands are blurry like they’re in the middle of a debate. If he remembers correctly, they were talking about the likelihood of Holster queuing up “One Day More” before the party ends.

It’s not his best photo, but he likes it. Lardo has paint and glitter smeared under her eyes and Bitty’s flushed like he’s never seen him, a speck or two of glitter on his tank top, and both their faces are serious in that way they get when they’re aware they’re being ridiculous and want to be ridiculous as long as they can. There’s a sense that they could fall into laughter at any moment. 

Lardo faces Bitty and Bitty’s positioned toward the camera. He’d made eye contact with Jack right after he had snapped the photo, and he’d said, “Oh, this boy,” like Jack had done something especially precious.

Jack doesn’t want to hear what this guy has to say about this moment. 

His professor says, “Be constructive, Brandon,” and Brandon nods.

“Just like,” Brandon says, his expression a bizarre mix of amusement and exasperation, “it’s so obvious.”

Jack frowns.

Someone asks, “What’s obvious?” 

Brandon waves a hand at the photo like he’s surprised no one else sees what he’s seeing. “All of it. The focus is on this guy, right, and the girl’s into him, and the camera’s jealous and like, obviously fucking in love _—”_

“I think it’s more along the lines of appreciation,” someone — Jack thinks her name is Emma — says now. “The lighting is soft, the guy is centered, his body looks relaxed even though his face looks serious. And she’s talking about something and she’s a little to the right but the camera likes her, too, so I don’t think you can say—”

“It’s right  _ there—” _

Their professor interjects before he can finish his sentence. “Thank you, Brandon, and the next person who speaks had better be  _ constructive.” _

____________

 

He doesn’t think about the critique. There’s hockey and homework and checking practice with Bitty — he takes a picture with the flash one morning after knocking on his door, and Bitty’s face is so upset and sleepy and Jack doesn’t think it’s cute, he doesn’t — and then Annie’s and mentoring the frogs and playing MarioKart with Ransom and Holster, and arguing over Settlers of Catan with Holster and Dex, and then that game being banned forever, so there’s no time to think about whether he’s putting all the focus on Bitty or if he just really, really appreciates the way he looks. Or if it’s both, somehow.

Now and then Jack wonders, though. He shows Bitty his pictures almost every day and Jack wonders if he sees something deeper in them. He thinks, maybe — he wonders if he does himself.

But then Bitty always says something about “You’re makin’ me look pretty for once” or “Gosh, how you caught me with flour in my hair I’ll never know” or “Lord above look at this lighting here” and it’s so, so hard not to tell him he’s the one making everything prettier, that he’s the one casting the light. 

Jack doesn’t know what to do with himself. He elbows Bitty and chirps him and Bitty pretends to be outraged, his nose scrunching up, and he tells himself to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.

____________

 

He has another critique. This time, it’s a photo he took of the whole team piled into the living room during a MarioKart tourney, careful to make sure no Solo cups or bongs were in view of the lens. It’s kind of simple too, but there’s so much movement and life in his friends’ faces that he wanted to hold onto.

Brandon starts talking before their professor finishes opening the floor for comments. “Like, is this a joke? It’s focused on that blond guy again. He’s, like, the only point of stillness in the room, it feels like the camera rests on him like it’s comfortable looking at him. It’s sort of in love with him, isn’t it?”

Jack — Jack can’t think about that right now. Or, okay, yes, he likes looking at Bitty. Bitty’s easy to look at. And he’s not always as still as he is in the picture, but that’s because here he’s smiling at his phone while he tweets something about the scores to his followers, and okay, everyone else is in an uproar and yes Bitty’s in focus if not in center like the camera’s directing eyes to him, and— 

He knew it already, but he’s fucked. Well and truly.

____________

 

“Brah,” Shitty says, hopping onto his bed. “My beautiful beautiful man. I feel like I haven’t seen you.”

Jack glares at him as best he can without moving too much. “It’s Saturday,” Jack mumbles. “Sleeping.”

Shitty sniffles and says, “You used to have time for me,” and Jack grumbles. He throws back his blankets. Shitty doesn’t need to be asked twice. Jack isn’t sure Shitty doesn’t kick him on purpose when he wiggles underneath the covers.

They face each other, inches apart on Jack’s pillows. “What’s been going through that precious noggin’ lately?” Shitty asks.

“Just classes, and jobs,” he says. It’s partially true; he has been concerned about his thesis, and Providence has shown noted interest in signing him. He’d be lying if he said hockey wasn’t taking up most of his time. They have an entire Excel sheet courtesy of Ransom set up to show all the benefits of taking Providence up on their offer. 

One of the benefits is that it’s only forty-five minutes or so from Samwell with light traffic.

This is the other thing he’s been thinking about. He hasn’t decided whether or not to add travel time to the list yet.

Shitty raises his eyebrows. “Just classes and the Falcs?” Jack shrugs, nods. Shitty’s eyebrows go even higher. “Nothing about photographing a certain blond bitty baker?”

There’s nothing in Shitty’s tone that’s accusatory. Jack thinks on that, then on whether or not anyone else can see how obvious he is, if he’s actually being obvious. Brandon can absolutely not be right about this.

He says, “How’d you know?” and this time Shitty does kick him on purpose.

“Brah, I’m fucking wounded,” Shitty says. He sounds thoughtful. “Mostly, you started looking at him differently. It’s like, I dunno, he’s the lamp and you’re the fucking moth brah. Sucked into orbit.”

“I don’t know,” Jack whispers, “how to hide this. There’s this asshole in my class—”

“Brandon, yeah.”

“—yeah, Brandon, he thinks I’m pining away or something, apparently my camera’s in love with Bitty.”

He didn’t say  _ apparently I’m in love with Bitty, _ but Shitty’s smiling a little as if he had.

“That’s some stiff competition, Jackabee,” Shitty says, snuggling up closer to Jack’s side. “My money’s on the camera, personally.”

Jack says, “Fucking wounded,” and Shitty outright giggles sleepily. Jack’s sort of delighted with himself for making him sound like that. “What do I do?”

“About Bitty?”

“About the fact that apparently everyone can tell.” He has a sudden, terrible thought. “Do you think he knows?”

Shitty pulls the covers up around his shoulders. “Nah, you know Bits. He might think _ maybe  _ but there’s no way he actually believes it.”

This is worse than him knowing. Jack frowns.

“I want to tell him,” Jack says, softly at first, then louder. “Shits, how do I tell him?”

Shitty’s snores echo in the silence between them.

____________

 

Jack deluges his friends with photos. Lardo subtly picking her nose when she doesn’t think anyone’s watching. (She makes him print that out so she can use it in a piece she’s working on of self identity.) Rans and Holster, asleep on each other on their next roadie, holding hands and sharing a blanket. (They have a “BRO!” moment over it the next day, smiling at each other and then at Jack so much Jack’s own cheeks hurt from the enthusiasm.) A soft moment between Chowder and Caitlin, Chowder kissing her head, Caitlin holding him tight. (They post it everywhere, and for a short while his DMs are full of people asking him to photograph them. It’s a nice change from the other questions he gets in.)

And a shower of Bittys. A flood of Bittys. Bitty at Annie’s asking for more whipped cream. Bitty sitting on Jack’s bed trying to pronounce  _ pamplemousse. _ Bitty posing in a “candid” in the locker room, jersey and chest pads off, hands over his head, the fluorescent lights catching every dip of his collarbones and shoulders and abs. Bitty studying for once. Bitty looking at Jack after Jack’s chirped him for studying for once. Bitty on his birthday crying over the new oven, then another taken by someone else of Bitty on his birthday crying against Jack’s chest. Bitty, before their last game together, looking out to center ice.

Jack keeps the ones of Bitty for himself. He doesn’t do anything with them, just kind of — kind of keeps them as a chronicle. A way to say to himself how he feels, even if he doesn’t or won’t or can’t say it to Bitty. Something to look back on and think  _ this is how wide and large and possible you felt when you thought about him. _

____________

 

His professor keeps him after his last critique and says, “Now, I mean this kindly, but geese aren’t your passion, are they?”

It had been a triptych of Shitty, Lardo, and Ransom and Holster being chased by the geese on campus. He’d been going for something lighter, something a little different than the ones of Bitty. Brandon can’t do too much with pictures of geese.

That being said, though. “No,” Jack tells her, and she nods knowingly. He isn’t sure what to do with that.

“Your pictures of your teammate, the blond one,” she says, “they have a sense of life about them. Light. Not saying these photos today were bad, because we both know they are incredibly well done. But there’s more to photography than technical skill, and he’s the light that ties your portfolio together.”

“I just want,” Jack says, then stops. He’s not sure if there’s a safe way to finish that.

His professor waits a few seconds, then says, “I told you all to find your light at the beginning of the semester, right?” He nods numbly. “I think you’re one of the few who listened. Light comes in all forms, Mr. Zimmermann. I think yours just happens to be small and blond.”

____________

 

He sprints up the stairs, panting, and throws open Bitty’s door. Where—?

“Jack!” Bitty says brightly from Jack’s doorway. Jack turns so sharply he nearly falls over; Bitty catches him, barely, and says, “We still on for vocab practice? Lord but you’re out of breath—”

“Bitty,” Jack tries, then rests his hands on his head and forces himself to measure his breathing. Bitty frowns up at him in concern and something a little like worry. “I, euh. I need to show you something.”

Bitty steps further into Jack’s room, saying, “Is everything okay?” and Jack laughs a little breathlessly. 

“Um. Yes,” he says, shuffling through his history thesis to find his laptop. “Just — I need to show you something.”

“Okay but the last time someone did this it was Holster and it was him asking about panty pictures and Jack I swear if you have panty pictures of yourself I’m not going to be able to handle that so this had better not be—”

“It’s — hold on,  _ what?” _

Bitty explains while Jack opens the folder, his breathing settling to something closer to normal. He clicks on one of the photos, maximizes it to fill the screen, and Bitty abruptly stops talking.

It’s the picture Jack had taken on the bus that turned Bitty’s hair into a halo.

“Oh,” Bitty says. He sounds confused. “Well, it’s definitely better than the panty pics, but—?”

Jack’s throat is dry. “Just wait,” he says. 

He clicks through all the pictures he’d kept to himself. Bitty doing a figure skating jump over the frozen pond. Bitty on Ransom’s shoulders at a kegster. Bitty and Jack, faces sandwiched together in a selfie, Lardo making a face in the background.

Jack hadn’t realized it as he’d gone along, how many photos he’d taken centered around Bitty. He glances at Bitty now that he’s thinking it and it’s a punch to the stomach when he sees Bitty’s eyes are closed. He sets the laptop down.

There’s a pause.

“Jack, I don’t—” Bitty whispers, and now he’s gripping the comforter so tight his fingertips are faintly pale. “What does this mean, I don’t want you to — to feel bad, or obligated or something, you don’t have to do this.”

“What?”

Bitty looks at him now and he looks like he’s going to cry. “I don’t know what this means, and I have an idea, but that’s impossible and it’s just going to hurt if I’m wrong and please don’t — you don’t have to feel like you’re obligated to entertain my little crush, it’s fine, I don’t mind that you don’t feel the same but if this is a joke or something—”

He was wrong before, this feels like getting hit in the stomach. In all his internal organs. He agonizes over whether or not to take Bitty’s hand. “Bits, no, that’s — that’s not it at all.”

In the back of his mind it registers that Bitty has a crush on him, too. His heart beats a little faster.

“What is it then,” Bitty asks, a question and not at once. 

“I think I’m,” Jack starts. When he stops Bitty’s eyes fly open, staring cautiously, and Jack takes his hand now. He plays with their fingers. “My photography class has been on me for ages about this. I’m kind of in love with you. Well and truly.” 

Bitty inhales sharply at this. Jack’s heart skips. 

He whispers, “I think it’s only fair you know now, too.”

He glances up at Bitty after what feels like forever.

Bitty’s looking back at him like he’s the first crack of morning sunlight over the horizon.

“What?” Jack whispers. His ears are red, he can tell; he’s never been looked at like this before.

Bitty shrugs a little helplessly. He looks like he’s struggling to think of something to say, like all the words aren’t sitting properly on his tongue, and finally he just throws his hands up. Just leans forward slightly, slow enough that Jack knows what he’s doing, slow enough for Jack to meet him halfway in a kiss.

____________

 

His photography teacher reminds them their last day of class to be aware of their light. Life, she says, deals so heavily with light and dark, so keeping one eye on that balance is important. You don’t want to overshadow yourself in negativity or draining things. Light can bring clarity and emotion to your life.

“Find your light,” she says again at the end of class, looking straight at Jack, and this time Jack just smiles back at her.

________________________

**Author's Note:**

> This has been long in the works, so thanks for reading!! :)
> 
> I'm on tumblr! [come say hi :)](http://ivecarvedawoodenheart.tumblr.com)


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